


Just live

by Meero94



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Car Accidents, Comfort/Angst, Fluff and Angst, Hospitalization, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-04
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-02-24 03:15:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2566277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meero94/pseuds/Meero94
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The hospital calls Oliver to tell him that his boyfriend had been in a car accident, and the world falls to pieces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just live

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Connor gets into some type of accident and Oliver is a panic stricken mess. 
> 
> The title is taken from the song 'You' by Keaton Henson.

When the world stops, Oliver learns that night, it does so in mere seconds. All it takes is one sentence, a few words, to bring your universe crashing down and freeze time around you. 

Oliver's world screeches to a halt at 1:05 AM on a Thursday. He knows because he numbly checks the time when it happens, the cellphone slips out of his fingers and crashes to the floor once he's seen the numbers. How could he have fallen asleep. Why hasn't he waited, why hasn't he called  _him._ How.. how.. how, his mind keeps screaming.

_"I'll be out late, don't wait up. Seriously." Connor had smiled earlier that day, knowing all too well that he'll find Oliver asleep on the couch when he comes back._

_"Yeah yeah, just call me when you leave. I'll go to bed and pretend I haven't been waiting."_

_Connor only rolled his eyes with a laugh at that, but Oliver could see the smile in his eyes._

On his way to the hospital, with shaking fingers and a held in breath, Oliver checks his phone log and finds a missed call from Connor. The time of the call reads 12:05 AM. 

He finally starts crying. 

***

Getting out of the cab proves to be a challenge once Oliver arrives at the hospital. His legs won't hold him up and he has to try opening the door no less than three times. The taxi driver gives him a pitying look but remains silent. 

Despite his legs' lack of cooperation and the heavy weight in his stomach, Oliver manages to rush to the entrance. His breaths are labored and the words leave him in scattered pleas but the nurse understands him anyway. She gently points him to a hallway and asks him to take a seat while she gets a doctor. Oliver wants to scream at her that he can't sit down, he wants to tell her that someone has pulled the earth from under his feet not half an hour ago. He wants to tell her that Connor left him a voicemail, probably something playfully offended because Oliver didn't pick up, but that he can't listen to it because he might throw up. He silently nods instead, mumbling out the ghost of a thanks and heading towards the faded gray seats. 

He has never hated the color so much in his entire life.

***

Connor's doctor is a nice old man with a kind face. He comes out of a door labeled "OR", wearing blue scrubs and an exhausted expression. As he approaches, Oliver feels bile rising in his throat. Everything in him wants to either collapse or turn away. He fears what the doctor has to say and wouldn't hear it if he didn't have to. Would run for the exit and pray to the anyone listening that this is just a nightmare. That maybe he'll wake up with Connor healthy and sleep-rumbled by his side, and Connor would mock him for the silly dream then kiss him until Oliver's fears dissolved like salt in water. 

The doctor comes to a stop before him and Oliver's world seems to teeter on edge for the second time that night. 

 ***

Oliver hates hospitals. He hates the sterile smell and the tired faces. Hates the dim lights and the gray seats in the waiting room. He is a pleasant person usually; the type who rarely hated anything and tried to always see the good side of things. But right now he couldn't help it. Couldn't crush down the gnawing fear or sense of dread in his stomach. 

"Oliver," Laurel calls out as she rushes to his side, closely followed by Wes. "Oh my god, we came as soon as we could. The rest are... this case we've been working on has left us all.. They'll probably be here in a couple hours." She got it all out in one breath then paused, obviously reluctant of speaking her next words. 

"Is he -" Wes starts then flexes his jaw, pausing to look at Laurel and then back at Oliver.  With a soft tone, Wes continues, "Is he dead?"

"N-no," Oliver chokes out, the tears fighting against his vocal cords. "B-but he's not well either. The doctor said -" Oliver takes in a shuddering breath and fixes his eyes on his hands. Laurel and Wes both have their hands on him, one of them patting his shoulder while the other rubs his back soothingly. "He said to expect the worst. He took a strong hit to the head. Lost a lot of blood." 

Oliver numbly recited what the doctor said, feeling like a character in a movie rather than a real person. No matter how hard he squeezed his eyes or cried, his brain keeps refusing to come to terms with its surroundings. Half of Oliver is convinced that Connor would saunter in any moment, a look of fond exasperation on his face and some witty line at the tip of his tongue. Oliver would kiss him senseless and sob in his arms, dignity be damned. 

"How," Laurel asks with an unnoticeable break in her voice. She pauses for a second, takes a deep breath, and then repeats in a controlled tone. "How did it happen?"

"Drunk driver. The police called me right after they put him in an ambulance," And here Oliver can feel his heart dropping once more. The words still fresh in his mind. "They said I was listed as his emergency contact. Jesus, I didn't.. didn't even know that.. He had me as his.."  

The words rattle in his brain but don't make their way past his lips anymore. He stays silent and stares at the tiles after that, ignoring the worried glances his two friends keep sending his way. He tunes them out completely and focuses on breathing. 

Breathe in. Breathe out. 

Connor will be fine. He has to be. 

The kind doctor looks even more tired the next time he speaks to Oliver. 

***

The world starts moving again in nanometers. It goes on like the frost melting off of an object; frustratingly slow and somewhat mocking in its delay, but Oliver manages to bear it. He holds on to the things that matter most and reminds himself that it'll pass. That he'll soon have a reason to smile again. He listens to the voicemail until he's familiar with every breath intake and exhale in it. Until he knows the words by heart. 

" _Hey, babe. I'm just leaving this to prove a point; I did call. Like I said I would, and I bet you fell asleep on the couch like you said you wouldn't. You owe me for being right. Anyway, I'm on my way home- um, I mean, on my way to your place now. About to get in the car, actually, and I'm obviously very tired.. since I'm starting to sound like you with the rambling,_ " Connor lets out a small laugh, the ignition turning on in the background. " _See you in a bit, sleepyhead."_

Oliver almost deletes it after hearing it for the twelfth time. It's with his thump hovering over the delete button that Oliver hears the voice he's been craving. Hears it for real this time, without the static of cellphones tainting it. 

"Oliver?" Connor croaks out, his eyes fluttering open and still unfocused. 

Oliver rushes to his side with tears brimming in his eyes. He has to convince himself once again that he's awake. That this isn't some kind of hope induced hallucination -and even if it were, he thinks that he'd rather have it than any reality without Connor in it. 

Connor look up at him in question, his lips chapped and face marred with yellows and purples. Oliver calls to a nurse then plants his feet by Connor's bed. He takes his boyfriend's hand in both of his and kisses it, brushes the hair out of Connor's beautiful face. He tries to explain the past three days but his words fail him and he ends up with tear stained cheeks instead. 

Connor can barely speak and has to be propped up by nurses for examination. He drinks water from a straw and needs help to sit up, but he keeps his hand in Oliver's at all times. Alternating between giving Oliver reassuring squeezes and playing with his fingers.

After the doctors have come and gone and the Keating Five -four in this case- have left, Oliver lays by Connor's side on the tiny bed. He murmurs things to him that would make no sense to anyone else listening, but the words calm Connor down and that's what counts. They keep their fingers entwined through night visits from the nurse and a half-hearted scolding from Connor's doctor about hospital beds and IV lines that shouldn't be disturbed. 

The younger man spends most of the night asleep, but he grins at Oliver whenever he wakes and mutters that _'It's creepy watching people while they sleep, Ollie.'_ , and doesn't go back to sleep until Oliver tells him that he loves him and makes promises that they’ll stay up as much as he want when they leave the hospital.

Connor tells him that he loves him too and offers a small smile before going back to a restless sleep.

Oliver stays up all night; watching his boyfriend’s soft breaths and breathing prayers of thanks, as his world falls back into place. 

**Author's Note:**

> So, I have a thing for writing stories late at night and posting them without any editing. I really didn't know how this fic would go when I started writing it, so I'm a bit worried about the outcome but am too tired to give it a second read. I hope you guys like it anyway, and tell me if you spot any mistakes (I'll correct them and give you my embarrassed gratitude). 
> 
> Tell me what you think of the chapter -did you hate it? liked it?- either here or at sulkybbarnes on tumblr. I make even less sense there than I do here. 
> 
> Kudos/comments would be most appreciated, thanks for reading!


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